


rock my world into the sunlight

by thelilacfield



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Clubbing, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Halloween Costumes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29534214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: It’s never her who hooks up, never, but there’s something so electric between her and Vision.Maybe she’s being ridiculous, thinking that them dressing as her favourite couple from her favourite comic series for Halloween means they’re somehow soulmates.But stranger things have happened.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 8
Kudos: 116





	rock my world into the sunlight

**A/N:** Me again with another smutty AU inspired by some _WandaVision_ costumes! Hope you enjoy, leave a comment if you do, it helps keep me writing! :D

I'm on twitter and tumblr **@mximoffromanoff** if anyone wants to chat about all things scarletvision!

* * *

" _Wanda_! Are you ready yet?! I wanna start on the tequila!"

"You do not need any tequila."

"You're not my mom, Mon!"

Straightening her headpiece in the mirror, Wanda opens her bedroom door and finds Darcy already the worse for wear, drinking wine and sitting on the back of the couch, Monica staring at her and shaking her head. " _Whoa_!" Darcy yelps, almost falling backwards before Monica shoves her upright and rolls her eyes. "You look _great_!"

Smoothing her hands over the pink tights covering her thighs, Wanda beams and says, "Thank you. You think people will know who I'm supposed to be?"

"They will until some drunk idiot inevitably steals the headpiece," Monica says. "Then you're just a slutty devil or some other thing that's red."

"A slutty strawberry!" Darcy pipes up, chugging the last of her wine. She stands up, somewhat unsteadily, and tugs down the green skirt of her dress, smoothing the ruched fabric over her hips. "We'd match. I'm a slutty cactus."

"Great, so the pilot is escorting the Scarlet Witch and her sidekick the slutty cactus out for the night," Monica says, and Wanda giggles, taking another swig of vodka. She needs the liquid courage to go out showing off quite so much cleavage. The leotard didn't look this low-cut when she bought it.

By the time they stagger out of the apartment block and towards the club, she's pleasantly warm even without a coat, and Darcy is running ahead despite Monica calling her back, teetering on her shiny shoes towards the club. It's late enough that most trick-or-treating families have gone home, leaving the streets for them, for joyful drunken students in ridiculous costumes, tripping over heels and getting tangled in capes and reapplying make-up in the queue for the club.

Jimmy finds them inside, and Darcy screeches his name and tackles him in a hug that nearly sends both of them down before Monica pulls her upright, rolling her eyes. "Don't peak too early, Darce, we said we'd stay until lights up," she says, and Darcy rolls her eyes, tugging at her dress.

"I am _having fun_!" she says, and there's a predatory gleam in her eyes when she looks towards the bar. "Okay, which one of those bartenders is the hottest and I should therefore try first?"

"I think Wanda is way more likely to get us served fast," Monica says, and shrugs when Wanda glares at her. "Look, you're showing the most cleavage."

"You have to let me show these photos to that guy from my Stats class," Darcy says, and Wanda shakes her head.

"I told you, you have terrible taste in men and I am not letting you set me up."

"I have _fantastic_ taste in men!"

"Do you?" Jimmy teases, and Darcy tosses her hair and stomps off to buy the first round of the night.

The club is packed with people in costumes, and they make a game out of it. A new drink for every girl dressed like a cat, a new drink for every boy dressed like a superhero, a drink finished every time the opening notes of some ridiculous remix of _Monster Mash_ plays over the speakers. The warm shine of the alcohol kicks in and they end up on the dancefloor, Darcy singing along to every song far too loudly, their little knot attracting a lot of attention.

Time passes differently beneath the whirling lights, until Wanda is being tugged off the dancefloor, Monica's hand around her wrist, and Darcy is chattering nineteen to the dozen to a man dressed as The Riddler, fingers wrapped lazily around a bottle of beer. "Wanda, you know Sam, right?!" she squeals, and she's so clearly drunk that it makes Wanda feel a little better about how much her head is swimming.

"Friend of mine won a VIP table for the night, come share," Sam says, and he's leading them to a table occupied by two girls and another boy. The girls are clearly a couple, one dressed as a butterfly and one as a witch, but Wanda gapes at the boy.

"Oh hey, you guys match!" one of the girls says, pointing between her and the boy. And Wanda's eyes run over his costume, the yellow cape wrapped around him, his face and hands painted a red that somehow hasn't smeared, and the small smile on his face when he looks at her.

"The Scarlet Witch," he says softly, and she nods, sitting down next to him in the booth. "You look...you look great."

"How long did all that make-up take?" she asks, and he ducks his head bashfully. "It looks awesome." Shifting on the bench, wrapping her cape around herself, she asks, "So how did you find the comics? I'm guessing The Vision is your favourite."

"So his favourite that we all call him Vision," Sam says, and Wanda gives him a small smile. He's probably blushing under all the make-up, and she wants to touch his face, figure out whether he is.

"I was a kid, and I was bullied for wearing glasses, and I wanted to be a superhero," he says in a small voice, and she just smiles. "I know it's ridiculous-"

"It's not," she says softly. "The first time they revealed that the Scarlet Witch's real name is Wanda, I squealed."

"You're Wanda?" he asks, and she nods, shifting closer to him in the booth. Letting their thighs press together, feeling the warmth pouring off him, his eyes very blue even beneath the dim club lighting. "I'm Victor. If you feel like it's stupid to use the nickname."

"It's not stupid," she says, and she's so stunned by the moment of burning connection that passes between them that she misses Darcy's smirk staring at them.

"I'm so happy you two finally get to meet," she says, and Wanda tears her eyes away from Vision's to stare at her.

"This is the guy from your Stats class?" she asks, and Darcy nods, her smirk edged brilliantly with wickedness.

"The one and only," she says, and she's turning away to talk to one of the girls that Wanda hasn't been introduced to, and she sinks back into the booth next to Vision, electricity sizzling in the empty space between them.

Everything is warm and bright and slow, and somehow she's in Vision's lap, her legs dangling, her arm around him. She's feeling his breath hitch when she presses her mouth to his ear and asks him to dance. The dancefloor is a puddle of liquid gold, waiting for them, and it must light up when they're on it. When she presses back into the slender length of his body, his arms winding around her, and they move like they were made to fit together. Staying like that for a few songs before she turns in his arms, adjusting her slipping headpiece, and finds him staring at her, those blue eyes filling the whole world.

There's no way of knowing who moved in first for the kiss. But their lips are meeting, her arms tangling around his neck, pressing him back into the dark space at the back of the dance floor, beneath the overhang of the VIP area. She barely knows him, she never does this, but he groans against her mouth and she slides her tongue between his parted lips, trapping his thigh between her legs and grinding into him. There's heat pouring off both of them, the fabric of their costumes so thin she can feel him, and it's only when the lights come up that she starts away from him.

People around them are booing, complaining about the night being over, talking about after parties and cabs home and rooting around for wallets and phones and keys. She unearths her phone from her cleavage, heat flaring between her thighs at the strangled sound Vision lets out, his eyes on the dip of her neckline, and finds a series of messages in the group chat with her roommates.

**Monica Rambeau: Jimmy went home with Sam, but he gave us his key so me and Darce are gonna sleep at his place**

**Darcy Lewis: Tried to get your attention, but you were sucking hella face and I didn't want to interrupt the hormone show**

**Monica Rambeau: Be safe!**

**Darcy Lewis: Condoms are in the second drawer of the bathroom cabinet ;)**

When she looks back at Vision under the lights, she sees that the make-up on the lower half of his face is almost entirely rubbed off, the red that remains in feathery smears on his nose and jawline. After half a second of wondering where it went, she realises that it must be all over her face, and thanks God for the shamelessness that the shots still in her system are lending her. "My roommates are staying somewhere else for the night," she says softly, and what of his pale skin is exposed flushes brightly. "So we can...continue this?"

"I never do this," he mumbles, and she moves closer to him, cupping her hand to his face, noticing for the first time the red smears on her fingers. More make-up. "You don't have to...just because we-"

"Have been making out for probably an hour and it's the hottest fucking thing that's ever happened to me?" she asks, and he ducks his head, breaking eye contact. But there's a smugness playing at the corners of his mouth, and she lifts his chin to find his eyes. "Come home with me, Vizh."

"A cab isn't going to take us when all the paint is coming off me, I swear I thought I'd set it down-"

"I'm only a fifteen minute walk away," she says, and takes his head, pulling him after her into the night.

The scenes outside the club are of people on their phones, looking for friends and calling cabs and arguing about what takeout to stop for. A fine mist of rain is falling, and a few umbrellas have bloomed like mushrooms out of the crowds, occupied by people lighting cigarettes under them. There's a girl slumped on the ground, heels kicked off, crying while her friends coo over her, and it's such a typical night out that Wanda can't believe she's with someone. It's never her who hooks up, _never_ , but there's something so electric between her and Vision. Maybe she's being ridiculous, thinking that them dressing as her favourite couple from her favourite comic series for Halloween means they're somehow soulmates, but stranger things have happened.

It's only on the walk home that she becomes aware of exactly how much her feet hurt, that the spike-heeled boots were, in fact, a bad idea to wear clubbing. When she slows down, Vision turns to her with touching concern in his eyes, and she gestures vaguely to her feet. "Heels," she says, and leans down. "Just let me take them off."

"You can't walk home barefoot, you'll get cold," he says, and the next thing she knows he's swept her off her feet with a shriek, and he's carrying her bridal style through the streets.

"You don't have to _carry_ me-"

"There's glass all over the place, I don't want to cut yourself," he says, and she stares up at him. His make-up smeared, the shiny cut-out paper that's supposed to be the mind stone stuck to his forehead fluttering in the wind, the hood half tugged off his head from them making out. She could never have seen him coming. Or she would've said yes to Darcy's continuous offers to set them up a long time ago.

It's raining in earnest when they get back to the apartment, both of them drenched, and she wriggles her key out of the back of her phone to unlock the door. And before she can think too much, before she can make herself nervous, she rips her headpiece off, tosses it aside, and kisses Vision again before they've closed the door behind them.

He kicks the door shut, and they're kissing just as frantically as they were in the club. But it's different in her apartment, where she can see him properly, where there's her bed just through a door and they can actually have sex. When he pulls back, gasping for breath, she unknots the laces of her cape and drops it to the floor, unties his too, red and yellow mingling on the scratched floorboards. "We don't have to have sex," he says, and he's breathless, his voice rough when she leans in and kisses her way down his neck.

"Unless you don't want to, there's no reason we shouldn't," she says, and he groans, his mouth finding hers again. They nearly stumble over the couch backing towards her bedroom, and she slams him up against the door, finally tugging the hood of the spandex bodysuit he's wearing down, running her fingers through slicked-down blonde hair. "I'm gonna grab a condom, okay? Go make yourself comfortable."

Alone in the bathroom, under the much brighter lights, she winces when she sees how wrecked she looks in the mirror. There's a ladder in her tights running up her right leg, a darkening hickey on her neck, her hair is a mess and her _face_ is worse. Red face paint is smeared all over her, mingling in some places with her own lipstick and dark smears of eyeliner. There's even red on her neck, left behind by Vision's lips, and she touches it almost reverently before she grabs a condom from the drawer and goes running back to him.

He's right where she left him, and she grabs his hand to pull him into her bedroom, spinning him down onto the bed and crawling on top of him, pulling his hands to the zip of her leotard. "I should warn you," she says, "once you unzip that, I'm basically naked. Not much room for a bra in this thing."

"Oh _God_ ," he groans, and she smirks, continuing to tug at the spandex covering him. It takes both of them, four fumbling hands, before she gets him naked underneath her, his fingertips leaving smears of red on her skin when he finally pulls the leotard off her, his eyes wide and his voice strangled when he says, "You're beautiful."

"I wish I'd said yes to letting Darcy set us up sooner," she whispers, and leans down to kiss him, revelling in the groan of her name he lets out when she rolls the condom onto him.

They don't stop kissing when she sinks onto him, groaning into each other's mouths. He looks _wrecked_ beneath her, face smeared with red and hair a mess from her fingers, and she kisses down his neck, traces patterns into his chest with her tongue, her hips moving hard against his, his hands wrapped around her hips and leaving red smears on her skin. Somehow, being marked by him is _hot_ , the red fingerprints on her face and neck and breasts, and she feels uninhibited with him, touching herself while he stares at her, eyes wide and dark with lust.

His name tears from her in a high-pitched moan when she comes, her nails digging into his chest. He follows her not long after, his hips rising against hers and her name on his lips. And they're both panting when she climbs off to dispose of the condom, and then curls up on top of him, her fingers wandering down his chest, until he finally looks up at her and smiles. "That was amazing," he breathes, and she giggles, nuzzling into his shoulder.

"Thank God one of us has roommates who leave," she says, and his arms wraps around her, pulling her up for a kiss.

They must fall asleep tangled in each other, because she wakes up to her phone ringing. There's stale booze at the back of her throat and Vision warm beneath her, and she picks up her phone to bark, " _What_?"

"Jesus, grumpy, I thought you'd be in a good mood after we left you to get laid," Darcy says, and Wanda slumps onto the bed, Vision waking up and sleepily smiling at her. "Mon went to go see her mom, and I'm at that waffle place. You want anything?"

"Chocolate chip with syrup," Wanda says, and then throws her phone back towards her nightstand. When she crawls out of bed, Vision sits up straight, the sheet falling around his hips, and she notices the stains of red paint on the sheets. And she buries her face in her hands, softly saying, "We really should've showered before we did anything."

"I'm so sorry," he says, and his face is bright red. "The paint I used said it wouldn't come off if it was set correctly, and I thought I'd done it right-"

"Maybe it wasn't meant to withstand some fucking hot making out and fantastic sex," she says, and he flushes. She leans across the bed and kisses him, and says, "You can use the shower first, okay? I'm gonna attempt to get this off with cleanser."

He kisses her again before he scrambles out of her bed, clutching the stained sheet around him, and she watches him leave with a small smile. Only when remembering that Darcy will be home soon does she scramble for a packet of make-up wipes and some aggressive cleanser that works even on her heaviest eyeliner days, scrubbing at her neck and breasts and hips. Not all of it comes off, but it's enough to be hidden by the sweater and skirt she throws on.

When she opens her bedroom door, Darcy is just getting back, still wearing the slutty cactus dress with a coat that must be Jimmy's thrown over it, setting down a plastic bag of waffles and turning a wicked smirk on Wanda. "Did you have a good night?" she asks, and Wanda determinedly tries not to blush. "Is he still here?"

"He's in the shower," she says with all the dignity she can muster. "Thanks for...letting me have the apartment."

"I would never stand in the way of you getting dick from the guy I've been saying you should date for months," Darcy says, and Wanda shakes her head, going to pour herself a glass of orange juice.

The whine of the pipes stops, and Vision's blushing face appears in the cracked-open door. "Wanda, could I...I need to borrow something to wear home," he says, and Darcy is smirking so widely Wanda wants to punch her. "All I have is my costume, I-"

"You can always borrow _my_ costume, Vizh, you've got even better legs than me," she teases, and Darcy makes a spluttering noise into her Starbucks. "Darce, you must have an ex's stuff lying around."

"That feels slutshame-y, Wanda," she says primly, but trots off to her bedroom. And Wanda takes the opportunity to grab Vision's hand and steers him from the bathroom back into her bedroom. She doesn't want Darcy ogling him, possessiveness rearing up in her chest.

When Vision is dressed again, his costume stuffed into a spare plastic bag, wearing some slightly too-short jeans and a plaid shirt that Darcy unearthed from her stash of things she stole from exes, Wanda walks him to the door and smiles up into his eyes. "So..."

"So," he murmurs, his eyes soft and bright, and she leans up to kiss him.

"I'm free on Tuesday night," she says when the kiss ends, and his smile lights up the world. "We can go out for dinner. Maybe a movie?"

"Maybe a romantic moonlit walk," he says, and his fingers slide into her hair, pulling her in close again.

When she finally closes the door behind him, a helpless grin on her kiss-swollen lips, Darcy says, "I told you you'd like him."

"Shut up and give me my waffles."


End file.
